


In a New Light

by elleavantemm



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleavantemm/pseuds/elleavantemm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late in the early hours of Christmas Eve, Trowa takes the opportunity to admire his husband unnoticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a New Light

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the prompt "hand written notes" for the winter round of the livejournal Advent Challenge.

It was late; the hands on the clock having long since ticked past midnight into the early hours of the morning. Trowa sighed as he passed Quatre’s office on his way to their bedroom, sliver of light visible beneath the door. He pushed the door open quietly, though it creaked on its hinges mid-way as always; Quatre didn’t seem to notice. He was hunched over his desk, glasses sitting low on his nose as his hand moved smoothly back and forth across its surface. Trowa intended to tell Quatre to leave it, put the pen down and go to sleep; to remind Quatre that whatever he was working on could wait until later. But standing in the doorway looking at his husband’s profile illuminated by the soft light of his desk lamp, Trowa was struck by how beautiful Quatre was, even after all these years, and he took the opportunity to admire.

Quatre pushed his glasses up his nose slightly, light highlighting the delicate length of his fingers. Trowa’s eye followed his hand back down, appreciating the slim lengths as they cradled Quatre’s favourite sterling silver fountain pen - a gift from Trowa on their 11th anniversary - forming familiar looping letters. The light cast shadows across Quatre’s face, and Trowa could see the lines around his eyes and mouth: smile and laugh, frown and worry in equal turn.

Soundlessly, Trowa stepped away from the door and crossed the room to stand behind his husband’s chair. He is unsurprised to find Quatre writing eloquently phrased thank-you notes to their friends in advance for their gifts. His letters have become sloppy, indicative of his fatigue; the difference imperceptible, Trowa only able to tell due to his intimate familiarity with the slopping cursive. He waited for Quatre to lift his pen from the page, not wanting to startle him, before slowly running his palms up the other man’s arms, sliding around his back to massage tense neck muscles, strong fingers digging into stubborn knots.

Quatre let out a soft sigh, leaning back into Trowa’s hands. He lifted his right hand to remove his glasses, left hand rubbing at his tired eyes. The light at this angle highlighted the fine grey hairs within Quatre’s formerly golden strands more prominently. “Feels good,” Quatre murmured and Trowa smiled.

“It’s late,” he replied, caressing the the skin behind Quatre’s ear, who all but purred at the intimate action.

“I’m almost finished,” he returned.

Trowa squeezed the other man’s shoulders firmly. “These can wait until later. A few hours rest won’t impede your ability to finish a few notes. I’m sure everyone will understand if they happen to get their note a day late.”

“There’s so much to do tomorrow before the others arrive,” Quatre argued.

“Quatre,” Trowa said firmly, and the blond sighed, resigned.

Quatre slipped his arm around Trowa’s waist as he stood. “You’re so hard on me.”  
Trowa scoffed. “I am only as hard on you as you need me to be. If anything you’re too hard on yourself.” He kissed Quatre’s head. “Everything will be find tomorrow. Dinner is prepped and ready to go, all of the rooms are clean, and no one is going to care if you forget to write a thank-you note.”

“It’s polite,” Quatre replied petulantly.

Trowa rolled his eyes as the office door clicked shut behind them. Quatre’s adherence to social etiquette never ceased to amuse him, as the people who received the thank-you notes were not exactly the type of people to send their own. As they reached their own room, just two doors down the hall from the office, Quatre turned to kiss Trowa softly on the mouth. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“Merry Christmas.”


End file.
